Part 29 (1/2)

”He s.h.i.+nned out of it mighty quick when he thought trouble was coming.”

”Look here,” said Dolly, looking very perturbed, ”this is a nice thing, I don't think. Here we are five hundred foot up, and stuck for the day as like as not. I'm due for the _matinee_ at the Hippodrome. I'm sorry for the company if they don't get me down in time for that. I'm billed all over the town for a new song.”

”A new one! What's that, Dolly?”

”A real pot o' ginger, I tell you. It's called 'On the Road to Ascot.'

I've got a hat four foot across to sing it in.”

”Come on, Dolly, let's have a rehearsal while we wait.”

”No, no; the young lady here wouldn't understand.”

”I'd be very glad to hear it,” cried Mary MacLean. ”Please don't let me prevent you.”

”The words were written to the hat. I couldn't sing the verses without the hat. But there's a nailin' good chorus to it:

”'If you want a little mascot When you're on the way to Ascot, Try the lady with the cartwheel hat.'”

She had a tuneful voice and a sense of rhythm which set every one nodding. ”Try it now all together,” she cried; and the strange little haphazard company sang it with all their lungs.

”I say,” said Billy, ”that ought to wake somebody up. What? Let's try a shout all together.”

It was a fine effort, but there was no response. It was clear that the management down below was quite ignorant or impotent. No sound came back to them.

The pa.s.sengers became alarmed. The commercial traveller was rather less rubicund. Billy still tried to joke, but his efforts were not well received. The officer in his blue uniform at once took his place as rightful leader in a crisis. They all looked to him and appealed to him.

”What would you advise, sir? You don't think there's any danger of it coming down, do you?”

”Not the least. But it's awkward to be stuck here all the same. I think I could jump across on to that girder. Then perhaps I could see what is wrong.”

”No, no, Tom; for goodness' sake, don't leave us!”

”Some people have a nerve,” said Billy. ”Fancy jumping across a five-hundred-foot drop!”

”I dare say the gentleman did worse things in the war.”

”Well, I wouldn't do it myself--not if they starred me in the bills.

It's all very well for old Isaiah. It's his job, and I wouldn't do him out of it.”

Three sides of the lift were shut in with wooden part.i.tions, pierced with windows for the view. The fourth side, facing the sea, was clear.

Stangate leaned as far as he could and looked upwards. As he did so there came from above him a peculiar sonorous metallic tw.a.n.g, as if a mighty harp-string had been struck. Some distance up--a hundred feet, perhaps--he could see a long brown corded arm, which was working furiously among the wire cordage above. The form was beyond his view, but he was fascinated by this bare sinewy arm which tugged and pulled and sagged and stabbed.

”It's all right,” he said, and a general sigh of relief broke from his strange comrades at his words. ”There is some one above us setting things right.”

”It's old Isaiah,” said Billy, stretching his neck round the corner. ”I can't see him, but it's his arm for a dollar. What's he got in his hand? Looks like a screwdriver or something. No, by George, it's a file.”

As he spoke there came another sonorous tw.a.n.g from above. There was a troubled frown upon the officer's brow.

”I say, dash it all, that's the very sound our steel hawser made when it parted, strand by strand, at Dix-mude. What the deuce is the fellow about? Hey, there! what are you trying to do?”